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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086317">Ships in the Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites'>whenshewrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Derek, BAMF Stiles, Capture, Derek Hale is Stiles Stilinski's Anchor, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Hunters, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Torture, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kidnapping, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is Derek Hale's Anchor, The Pack Being Idiots, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:56:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086317</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was pretty sure he had a message on his forehead that read “Kidnap Me’ because shit like this kept happening. He was fully prepared to be thrown in cell, hitting the cement floor with a curse and a grunt. But he wasn’t prepared to hear a growl when the door slammed closed. Or feel calloused fingers tug at the blindfold around his eyes.</p><p>“Derek?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1265</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by this post/image:</p><p>  <a href="https://hoax1918.tumblr.com/post/43923618888/derek-and-stiles-were-catch-by-some-hunters">this</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles was pretty sure he had a message on his forehead that read <em> “Kidnap Me’ </em>because shit like this kept happening. The blindfold around his eyes and hands yanked behind his back were nothing new. He was fully prepared when he was thrown in what could only be a cell, hitting the cold cement floor with a curse and a grunt.</p><p>But Stiles wasn’t prepared to hear a growl when the door slammed closed. He also wasn’t prepared to feel calloused fingers tug at the blindfold around his eyes and sharp claws slice through the ropes behind his back. He squawked and tried to squirm loose, only to freeze when a growl cut through the air again.</p><p>“Dammit, Stiles, hold still.”</p><p>“D-Derek?”</p><p>The blindfold was torn off too and Stiles blinked against the faint light. Derek crouched over him with glaring brows and blood on the side of his face, but there was no sign of injury. Stiles groaned and dropped his head back to the floor.</p><p>“Oh my god, of course, you’re here. Dude, how were <em> you </em>captured?”</p><p>“I was shot,” Derek growled, and Stiles noticed his bloodstained shirt for the first time. “Multiple times.”</p><p>“Dude,” Stiles said, staring. “That sucks. I’m pretty sure I was drugged. But I don’t actually remember anything other than school after practice and putting my bag into the jeep and— oh, <em> fuck!” </em></p><p>Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles sat up, glaring at the cell door in anger.</p><p>“They probably just left my freaking jeep open in the parking lot. Hey, assholes! Someone is going to steal my car!”</p><p>“That’s what you’re worried about right now?”</p><p>“Roscoe is my baby,” Stiles said, shooting Derek a dark look. “I can be kidnapped anytime, I don’t even care anymore. But if Roscoe is gone when we get out of here—”</p><p>Derek grunted and turned away. Stiles narrowed his eyes.</p><p>“Glad to see you care.”</p><p>“Glad to see your priorities are set straight during this time.”</p><p>Stiles rolled his eyes and shoved himself up, gazing around the cell. It was larger than usual and the smallest amount of light came from somewhere beyond the barred cell door. The other walls were concrete and the air was chilly; enough to make him shiver. They were underground somewhere, that was obvious. </p><p>“Trust me, Sourwolf,” Stiles said. “I’ve been in situations like this before. Or have you forgotten the token human is the one who always gets kidnapped?”</p><p>Derek gave him an unreadable look. Stiles shrugged.</p><p>“Usually, the cell’s smaller and I don’t have anybody to cut me out of the ropes, so I’m not complaining. Anyway, let’s go over the facts, okay? You were, what, shot by hunters?”</p><p>“Are you seriously not bothered by any of this?”</p><p>“I was supposed to meet Scott for video games and pizza at his place tonight. Trust me, we only have to hold out for a few hours.”</p><p>“You think Scott,” Derek said, sounding unimpressed. “Will be the one to break us out?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah? That’s usually how it works out, Sourwolf.”</p><p>Derek’s face tightened and his jaw ticked. Stiles raised a curious brow, but Derek only turned away again. Stiles snorted.</p><p>“Right. So hunters?”</p><p>“Yes, hunters.”</p><p>“What the hell do they want with me then? I thought there was a code regarding humans.”</p><p>Derek didn’t answer. </p><p>Stiles sighed and slid back down the floor, gazing at his hands. It really did suck to be the token human sometimes. Because this was nothing new, but he was tired of it. And out of everyone he could’ve gotten thrown in a cell with, it had to be the Alpha that only tolerated him on a good day. Sometimes.</p><p>They didn’t talk again, which Stiles was fine with. Totally.</p><p>The silence kinda sucked though.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>A few hours passed before the cell door opened again. Stiles scrambled to his feet and Derek was already standing, claws out and teeth bared. The hunters came in without preamble, two grabbing Stiles by the arms and dragging him back while another one drove a needle deep into Derek’s neck. The Alpha roared and dropped to his knees while Stiles cried out, yanking against the hands holding him back.</p><p>“Get off me, you assholes! Derek, dammit, Derek! Don’t touch him!”</p><p>Whatever had been in the needle made Derek’s movements sluggish and Stiles could only shout as the Alpha was dragged out of the cell. He tried swinging at one of the hunters when they let go, but the man ducked his blow easily and laughed, shoving Stiles up against the bars. Cursing, Stiles tried to push back, but a fist drove into his stomach and he doubled over, choking on his own breath. The hunter shoved him against the bars again, a slap ringing across Stiles’s face, and then the man drew back, turning to follow his buddies out of the cell. Once more, the door slammed closed.</p><p>Silence fell over the air as they dragged Derek away. Stiles slid to the floor, gasping for breath.</p><p>A long moment of silence fell over the air. Grunting, Stiles closed his eyes, and brought his hands over his face, banging his head back against the cement wall. Spots of red dotted across his vision. “Fuck!”</p><p>He hated this. Usually, when he was alone, the only person he had to worry about was himself. And yeah, Stiles knew Derek was the Alpha and he healed unfairly fast, but that didn’t make things any better. Stiles was here and helpless, just like usual, except this time there was someone else getting hurt too. And it was Derek. Freaking Derek.</p><p>The silence lasted for too long. </p><p>Stiles shoved himself back up at some point to pace, walking the perimeter of the cell and running his fingers over the cement walls and the barred door. There were splotches of blood in certain areas and he didn’t know if they were Derek’s or even older than that. Stiles studied the bars and noticed the markings etched into them, along with what could only be mountain ash. He traced his fingers over the lock and cursed into empty air.</p><p>At some point around the third time he turned to pace, Stiles heard the sound of shuffling footsteps. He raced toward the bars, only to stumble back as a hunter rammed a fist against them. Anger and alarm rose in his throat when he saw two of the hunters holding Derek by the arms. The Alpha looked unconscious. Or worse</p><p>One hunter unlocked the cell door and the other two threw Derek in like a sack of potatoes. Stiles lunged forward and tried to catch the Alpha before he hit the ground, but the impact ended up sending them both sprawling to the floor. Laughter filled the air at that.</p><p>“Assholes!” Stiles snarled, voice echoing off the walls. The hunters didn’t even acknowledge his insult, chuckling amongst themselves as they moved out of sight. Stiles turned back toward Derek, who seemed barely conscious. He shifted a little bit, trying to straighten them both out. “Derek? Derek, I swear to god, you’re not allowed to die on me.”</p><p>“M’ not dying,” Derek grunted out. His voice was barely a rasp and Stiles swallowed hard, letting his eyes rake over the rest of the man’s body.</p><p>Derek looked like he could be dying. Stiles couldn’t tell which bloodstains were from earlier and which were new, but they were all bad enough to make his stomach lurch. There was something yellow around the wounds cut into his skin and Stiles noticed they weren’t healing fast enough. He didn’t need to study the substance to know it was some kind of wolfsbane.</p><p>Stiles’s throat closed and he cursed again. “Derek, what the hell did they do to you?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Derek rasped. “M’ fine.”</p><p>“Goddammit, you furry asshole, you are not fine.”</p><p>“I just—” Derek cut off for a second, eyelids fluttering, and Stiles felt his heart flip. Then the Alpha shifted a little. “I just need Sleep.”</p><p>“Dude, I don’t sleep is a good idea.”</p><p>“Stiles,” Derek said, leaning heavily against him. “Sleep.”</p><p>Stiles knew well enough that a normal person with wounds this bad probably shouldn’t let themself go unconscious. But Derek wasn’t a normal person. Taking a deep breath, Stiles nodded and situated Derek so his head was in Stiles’s lap and the blood sliding down the open gash on his forehead wasn’t dripping into his eyes anymore. Derek made a small noise at the back of his throat and Stiles shushed him.</p><p>“Okay, fine, Sourwolf, I’ll let you sleep. But if I think you’re starting to die again, I’m waking you right back up. Understand?”</p><p>“M’ not dying,” Derek said again. Stiles snorted nervously.</p><p>“Just shut up and close your eyes.”</p><p>Thankfully, Derek didn’t argue this time. Stiles could hear the way his breaths came in and out in short gasps and he tried not to focus on the blood that kept trickling down to the cell floor, or the fact that Derek’s skin was hot like a fever beneath his fingers. Instead, Stiles concentrated on the way his chest rose and fell, and eventually, the Alpha relaxed a little.</p><p>Only then did Stiles relax too. Not nearly as much though. </p><p>The silence was worse this time.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Derek woke up feeling like he’d been ripped apart and put back together again. </p><p>He laid still for a few seconds, focusing on breathing in and out, because his chest felt like it’d caved in on itself. It took him a moment to realize there were fingers in his hair and someone was humming softly, his head resting on an all-too-bony knee. It took Derek a moment longer to realize the someone was Stiles.</p><p>He jerked and then groaned as his entire body flooded with pain. Derek’s shirt was damp and stuck uncomfortably to his skin, though he didn’t think he was actively bleeding anymore. But it still felt like he had a dozen open wounds.</p><p>Stiles tensed up and the fingers left Derek’s hair. They were a strangely sudden loss.</p><p>“Derek?” The boy’s voice echoed off the cement walls. He smelled more scared and anxious now than he had at first arrived; though not as much as when Derek had been taken. That had been an overwhelming stench of terror and anger from the moment Derek had felt the needle enter his skin, to when he was dragged out of sight. It’d made his head spin even more than the drug itself.</p><p>Something wolfsbane. The drug had been something yellow that the hunters had used after they’d chained him up and started doling out blows Derek could normally take with ease. But this time, they’d hurt more than anything else.</p><p>He’d had one too many flashbacks of Kate. The sting of electricity, the feel of a blade against his skin. Derek shuddered unconsciously and turned his head into Stiles’s lap. The boy stiffened.</p><p>“Derek? Are you okay?”</p><p>“Fine,” Derek said lowly. “Tired.”</p><p>“You didn’t sleep for very long, big guy.”</p><p>Derek didn’t feel like he had. In fact, he felt like he’d only closed his eyes for a second before opening them again. But he was in too much pain now to try and sleep once more. And Stiles had been right earlier when trying to convince him not to sleep. Whatever wolfsbane was in Derek’s blood was slowing his healing and he needed all the energy he could get to keep himself from slipping off the edge.</p><p>He heard the sound of Stiles’s heart stutter as the boy licked his lips. “What… what did they want?”</p><p>“Not sure,” Derek said wearily. “Didn’t make much sense. Something about Scott’s pack and my pack. Wanted to know how it worked.”</p><p>“How what worked?”</p><p>“Us. Working together.”</p><p>Stiles’s fingers hovered in the air for a second before returning to his hair again. Derek thought he should be bothered or at least uncomfortable by this, but it was surprisingly soothing. They were gentle; nothing like the touches of the hunters. “Did you say anything?”</p><p>“No,” Derek said. “They didn’t like that.”</p><p>“Maybe you should. Maybe if you give a few things up—”</p><p>“I’m not giving anything up, Stiles,” Derek said, sharper than he’d intended to. Stiles’s fingers tensed for a second before relaxing a little. The boy sighed.</p><p>“They’re gonna come back.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“And they’re gonna hurt you again.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Dammit, Derek, seriously? No, that’s not okay!”</p><p>Derek didn’t know what to do with the raw tone in Stiles’s voice. He managed to sit up and Stiles’s hands removed from his hair again, pulling back into fists against his chest. Derek’s entire body screamed in pain as he moved, but he managed to slump against the opposite wall and look at Stiles in confusion.</p><p>“What do you mean, that’s not okay?”</p><p>Stiles stared at him. “Uh, I mean, that’s not okay, Derek. What the hell is it supposed to mean? That you’re allowed to sacrifice yourself whenever the opportunity comes up? That it’s okay for you to be hurt while I sit here with the knowledge of what’s happening?”</p><p>Derek blinked a few times. Stiles glared down at his hands. </p><p>“Usually, I’m alone,” he said flatly. “I don’t have to worry about anyone else.”</p><p>Derek straightened. Because yeah, Stiles was usually the one caught in the crossfire when it came down to the monster of the week or the psycho kidnapper, but Derek never really stopped to think about how it affected him. Usually, Derek was so set and focused on the mission of getting Stiles back, he didn’t wonder about how it was always him; always him alone.</p><p>“It’s hard for me to do my part in the pack sometimes,” Stiles muttered. “But I can do something in situations like this. Even if it’s just holding out until Scott comes.”</p><p>That hit Derek like a blow. He stared as Stiles shrugged and curled up in on himself a little more. The boy’s scent changed from anger to misery and Derek looked away, focusing on the dried bloodstains across the floor instead of the image in front of him. His own bloodstains, he recognized. Silence reigned over the cell.</p><p>After a while, Derek shifted again, trying to get more comfortable. It was difficult with every single movement feeling like he was opening up some invisible wound. His body had sewn itself together over most of the cuts, but they’d just become bruises and spots of hurt from there. It’d take longer— longer than he had until another session with the hunters— for them to fully fade.</p><p>“You were hurt pretty bad,” Stiles said, watching him. “When they brought you back here.”</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>“Sorry?” Stiles huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh my god, Sourwolf, you never cease to amaze me. Please don’t apologize for being tortured ever again.”</p><p>Derek rolled his eyes. For some reason, that brought a smile to Stiles’s face. He hummed to himself and fiddled with the strings of his sweatshirt, and his scent turned a little lighter. More like cinnamon and less like ash.</p><p>“I can’t tell them anything,” Derek said after another moment. “About the pack. I can’t risk the lives of the others.”</p><p>“Even if it risks yours?”</p><p>“Would you? Tell them anything?”</p><p>Stiles clenched his jaw and shook his head. Derek swallowed. </p><p>“It’s not on you, Stiles. To keep everyone safe.”</p><p>“Oh trust me,” Stiles said, scoffing. “I know that. Do you know how many times this token human has needed to be saved?”</p><p>“Why do you keep calling yourself that?”</p><p>“What, token human?”</p><p>Derek nodded. Stiles shrugged.</p><p>“Cause that’s how this works, isn’t it? The big baddie or baddies of the week need someone to beat on so they go for the one in the pack that isn’t a wolf, or hunter, or screaming red-head. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty badass with a baseball bat. But you can’t walk around with one of those without raising some suspicion, now can you?”</p><p>Derek didn’t answer that. Stiles huffed, but it sounded more like sarcastic amusement than anything else.</p><p>“I know I’m pack, Derek. But that doesn’t mean I’m a pillar to it or anything.”</p><p>“That’s not true.”</p><p>Stiles looked at him with a small smile playing over the edges of his lips. Derek would like to see that expression under any other circumstance and in any other conversation. “I’m not offended by it, Sourwolf. Usually.”</p><p>“You are a pillar,” Derek said, not sure why he cared so much about changing the boy’s mind. But Stiles believing what he did got underneath his skin like nothing else. “You’re important to the pack.”</p><p>“Of course, I’m important,” Stiles said with a laugh. “Who else would keep the peace and make jokes during the worst of times?”</p><p>Derek growled lowly, still not happy at that. Stiles seemed to notice, because the amusement faded from his eyes.</p><p>“You really care, don’t you?”</p><p>“Of course I care,” Derek mumbled. “Why wouldn’t I?”</p><p>“I mean, it’s me,” Stiles said, chewing on his lower lip. “Dude, I annoy you more than I annoy Jackson.”</p><p>“You don’t annoy me.”</p><p>Stiles raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Derek grunted.</p><p>“Fine, you do sometimes. But you’re always there and you’re always talking. Or moving. Or— or something.”</p><p>“Wow, dude,” Stiles said, offering a smile again. But it looked a little strained this time. “Thanks for that. Great last words if we both die in here.”</p><p>“But,” Derek said, growling the word out. “I don’t… hate it. It’s something constant.”</p><p>Stiles blinked in surprise. Derek glared at the floor again.</p><p>“You're something constant.”</p><p>“I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment, Sourwolf.”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“Ah, and there’s the Derek Hale we all know and love.”</p><p>Derek rolled his eyes and sighed. Of all the people he had to be trapped with, of course it was Stiles. And yes, Derek would rather it be someone else— anyone else. But that wasn’t because Stiles got under his skin or annoyed the crap out of him or never stopped talking. It was because Derek hated seeing him hurt. And he was more than a little terrified before this was over, Stiles would get hurt. Because that would be the real torture. </p><p>Derek just hoped the hunters didn’t figure that out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The cell door opened again after what felt like hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s injuries still hadn’t fully healed but he could sit up straight without wincing, so that was something. Not that it’d matter much if he was going to get dragged out and tortured again. Sitting still, Derek tilted his chin up and waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except, Stiles chose that moment to leap to his feet and step between him and the hunter. Derek cursed internally and struggled to push himself up too, but the hunter only laughed and didn’t move from the safety of the door. There was only one, Derek realized, and he wasn't holding a needle or anything threatening, just a few cereal bars and a bottle of water. Derek’s stomach howled and he realized just how hungry he was. And his mouth was so parched, he couldn’t even swallow right anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want these?” The hunter taunted, waving the bars through the air. Derek closed his eyes and turned his face away, but Stiles’s scent turned hot with anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you just gonna stand there and gloat, asshole, or are you gonna keep the werewolf from dying of thirst?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunter’s scent turned angry too and Derek tensed a little. But the man only scoffed. “A dead mutt’s better than a live one, I always like to say. I think the real question is what you’re willing to do to keep him breathing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles,” Derek said, voice catching. “Don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” Stiles asked, ignoring him. The hunter laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can you tell me about the Hale-McCall pack?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, ah, ah. That’s not gonna get you anything to eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Stiles said, and Derek nearly deflated in relief. “When your boss comes back to check on his big bad Alpha werewolf, though, and finds he’s dead from dehydration, I’ll make sure to mention it was the big ugly bastard that refused him water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, you little—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek managed to shove himself up, one hand wrapped around his chest as his eyes flashed and he snarled. The hunter drew back from where he’d been starting toward Stiles and his face paled. Beady eyes flicked between Derek and Stiles, and the man sneered before tossing the cereal bars and water to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t take this as a gift, boy. The longer your wolf is alive, the longer we have to get him to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s very nice,” Stiles said, smirking at him. “Please, give us some more evil villain monologue. Is this for the betterment of society? Are you going to destroy any and everything we love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles,” Derek said lowly. The hunter scoffed and slammed the cell door closed before turning away. The scent of the cell softened as Stiles relaxed in relief and moved over, picking up the food and water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess that’s one way to do it, right Sourwolf?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an idiot,” Derek said, sinking back down to the floor. “Don’t do that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles only rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek couldn’t help but notice that while the boy uncapped the bottle, he passed it to Derek first, doing the same with the bar. There were two, but Stiles only dropped the extra into his lap and watched Derek swallowed a fourth of the water and taking a large bite of his own. A small smile played along the edges of his lips as Derek offered over the bottle and Stiles accepted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What,” Derek grunted, after swallowing another bite. Stiles took a few careful sips and shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously,” Stiles said, the smile slipping from his lips. “You’re just looking a little less dead, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gee, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, dry humor. See, Sourwolf, you are feeling better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek shook his head and rolled his eyes. He finished the rest of his bar and looked up to see Stiles had eaten half of his and folded the wrapper around the rest. Amber eyes caught Derek looking and Stiles smirked, pushing it across the cell. Derek instantly scowled and pushed it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude,” Stiles said, shoving it over again. At this point, the thing was starting to fall apart. Derek growled and Stiles snorted. “I’m currently not the one getting tortured, Sourwolf, nor am I the werewolf with a fast metabolism. Eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek glared at the cereal bar for a second. Then he picked it up and complied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat in silence for a little longer, passing the water bottle between them as Derek watched the sunlight fade from the floor beyond their cell. He figured it’d probably been a day since they’d been taken. Stiles’d had his heart set on the fact Scott would’ve be here hours ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy was looking at the fading sunlight too. His smirk was long gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll come,” Derek said. Stiles nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll just take time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Usually, it’s not that long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek looked hard at the floor. Stiles squinted at him curiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, what’s with the face?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What face?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That face, you grump. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’m not telling you something’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>face that you keep getting whenever I bring up us getting out of here,” Stiles said. Derek rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have a face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you do, and it’s doing the thing right now. Why is it doing the thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek sighed, shrugging. Stiles continued to glare and got up, crossing the cell so he was standing over him. Derek looked up at him tiredly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, Stiles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously. What’s with the face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just think,” Derek said, avoiding his gaze. “Scott isn’t always on top of things. And maybe he’s not always the one who figures out what happens when you’re usually taken.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles narrowed his eyes. “So Lydia’s on our case then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek tried to look truthful when he nodded. Stiles’s face did something weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no way Erica can sit still long enough to do research. Is it Boyd? Oh my god, does Jackson actually secretly care?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, Stiles?” Derek said again, staring at him. Stiles drew back, looking offended at his tone. But then, after a few seconds, the boy’s face cleared, and Derek felt his own face go red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, are you the one that always finds me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Not always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek looked at him incredulously. Stiles tilted his head like Derek had just grown horns or something and Derek scowled, not happy at the implication that Stiles would be so shocked he actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>cared </span>
  </em>
  <span>when the idiot went missing. Stiles’s scent suddenly changed to something else. Embarrassment and… fondness, if Derek didn’t know better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, you like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I like you,” Derek said. “I’ve been stuck with you for three years, it’s called Stockholm Syndrome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Stiles said, crooning a little. “You actually like me. You don’t just tolerate me on a good day or any of that crap. You actually like me. Like, we’re friends, like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek swallowed, glaring harder at the floor. The last thing he wanted to get into was the possibility that he more than tolerated Stiles. That wasn’t a subject he wanted to poke at. Still, the fact that Stiles seriously believed Derek barely tolerated him hurt. “You’re an idiot, Stiles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re a fluffy little werewolf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could rip out your throat right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that would kind of negate the point of saving my ass every time I get kidnapped, now wouldn’t it?” Stiles said, sounding smug. Derek just grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little while longer passed and Stiles’s scent of triumph slowly faded. Soon, he was looking nervous again, sinking back to the floor. Derek arched a brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you usually saving the day that means we might be here for a lot longer,” Stiles said. “Cause Scott’s not very good at finding his own shadow, much less the trail of hunters. I always thought he got some adrenaline rush when I went missing, you know? Like mothers and overturned cars or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want Scott to be like your mother?” Derek asked, blinking. Stiles rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I just… ah, fuck, if I didn’t turn up for video game night, then Allison’s next on the list. I barely clawed this night for us anyway. Dude, we’re never gonna get found.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about your dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dad thinks I’m at Scott’s,” Stiles said morosely. “I mean, there’s a chance Scott might tell him I never showed but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Allison,” Derek finished. Stiles looked miserable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re gonna be fine,” Derek said, and he couldn’t believe he was the one saying this to Stiles. How often had the boy been in a situation like this saying similar things to himself all alone? Thinking Scott was on the way and he just had to hold out— Derek growled and Stiles looked up, startled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Derek?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the last time,” Derek said. “The last time something like this happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles’s gaze softened. “Don’t beat yourself up, Sourwolf, I’m not freaking out that bad or anything. It’s just, usually—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the point,” Derek said, cutting him off. “There shouldn’t be a usually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles looked surprised and internally, Derek hated himself. How had none of them noticed this before? Stiles was an eighteen-year-old kid, he shouldn’t be so used to kidnapping and torture that he just shrugs it off as another situation of the week. He wasn’t the token human and he wasn’t goddamn bait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude,” Stiles said. “You look like you’re about to murder someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek growled and looked away, not answering. When Stiles didn’t say anything else, silence fell over the cell once more</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his thoughts, Derek actually almost managed to fall asleep as the hours stretched on again. He thought it was probably because Stiles had, mouth hanging half-open and head tilted back against the cement wall. He was curled into himself, hands shoved into the pockets of his red sweatshirt, and the hood tugged up around his face. His heartbeats slowed when he slept; that was something Derek had noticed the first time Stiles stayed over at the loft and noticed every other time the kid had fallen asleep near him since.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was calming, in a way. Knowing it was possible for Stiles to be calm and relaxed at some point in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek was half-asleep himself, lulled by Stiles’s steady heartbeats, when the cell door slammed open again. This time, he didn’t even have the chance to leap to his feet before rough hands caught his arms, ripping them behind his back, and a needle pinched into his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek roared as the wolfsbane lit up his blood, feeling like he’d been set on fire. Like before, everything just red for a moment, and he couldn’t fight back when the hunters dragged him toward the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except this time, Stiles was leaping in front of them. Derek wanted to snarl at him to get back, but he couldn’t even lift his head much less open his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles tackled the closest man to the floor and the other hunter cursed, nearly stumbling under Derek’s weight. There were a few grunts and the sound of a sharp blow, and Derek wanted to howl at the fact he couldn’t turn to see what was going on. Except seconds later, his wish was granted. And Derek did make a noise of distress then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunter had a bloody nose and Derek recognized him as the man from earlier. He had handfuls of Stiles’s sweatshirt and rammed the boy against the opposite wall, sinking a knee into his stomach. Derek managed to get enough feeling back to try and leap toward him, but two pairs of hands caught his shoulders and yanked him back. Derek snarled and fought as he was dragged out of the cell and away from a slumped, groaning Stiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek managed a howl then, too. The sound echoed off the walls only seconds before something connected with his temple and he was knocked out.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stiles knew he was an idiot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew this, but that didn’t stop him from doing idiotic things. Like attacking a hunter twice his size. Stiles was proud of the fact that he’d at least gotten in a few good swings before the man had slammed him against the wall and given him the second-worst beating he’d had since Gerard. Stiles thought he’d heard a howl before the man had punched him across the face so hard, Stiles’s ears had kept ringing for minutes after the hunter left. But he couldn’t be sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles could still taste blood, sitting in the same spot he’d collapsed down in hours ago. He licked his bottom lip every once in a while, but that only seemed to irritate the cut more. The left side of his face felt hot and his head pounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles was more worried about Derek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know if he hated the fact that he had no idea what they were doing or was relieved by if. Because if he did, he might lose his mind. But as it was, Stiles felt like he was going crazy being left in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn’t have fallen asleep. Maybe then, he would’ve been able to react faster. Or get in another punch, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took them longer to bring Derek back this time. Stiles didn’t have the chance to try and catch the werewolf because he was slammed into the wall by Asshole Hunter #1 the second he stumbled to his feet. The man sneered as the other hunters dropped a shirtless Derek to the floor and the werewolf didn’t move, clearly unconscious. Blood came from multiple wounds and ran toward the cell’s drain in rivets. Stiles cursed and struggled to break free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell did you do to him? You goddamn assholes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen to that,” Asshole Hunter said, smirking. “Little Red doesn’t like seeing his mutt get hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” Stiles spat, glaring at him. “And where the hell is your code?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Code,” the hunter said, lips twisting. He spat to the side. “The Argents had a code, boy, and look what it got them. More than half dead, working alongside the mutts now. You run with werewolves, don’t you? Haven’t any of them warned you against playing with things you don’t understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like rogue hunters and their asshole beliefs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See,” the man said. “My buddies didn’t think you’d be worth it. They wanted the Alphas. Both of them. But do you know what I said? There’s something that keeps them together. Something that keeps the beasts from tearing each other’s throats out. And you’re that something, aren’t you, Red?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m nothing,” Stiles spat. “I’m the token human that’ll do you no good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we’ll see about that,” the man said. “Next time, maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles’ blood went cold and the man shoved him back, knocking his head against the cement wall and chuckling as he led the other hunters out. Stiles glared after them, then rushed over to Derek. The werewolf still wasn’t moving, but he was breathing at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Derek,” Stiles said, grunting as he tried to lift the man off the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only managed to get him up halfway though, before collapsing against the wall and pulling Derek with him. In defeat, Stiles sunk back to the floor, arms still wrapped around Derek’s shoulders. Tears of frustration rose into his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell of fresh blood was strong in the air, but Stiles tried to ignore it. Blinking hard, he shook his head and situated himself so Derek’s body was shielded by his own, trying to cover his bare back and slowly healing wounds. He pulled the man’s head into his chest and turned his body away from the cell door as if it would give them any privacy. Or at least, the feeling of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles didn’t know how long they sat there. Only that he started humming again at some point and tracing careful patterns on unmarked skin. Derek was burning hot, but the cell had turned ice-cold as night fell, and Stiles was almost grateful for the warmth. There was no more sunlight coming from beyond their cell door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles figured at least they’d have the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was half drifted off when Derek tensed underneath his arms, and his heartbeat stuttered beneath Stiles’s fingers. Stiles felt his face grow warm and thought about just closing his eyes; pretending to be asleep, but he decided against that. Instead, he loosened his hold a little to give Derek an out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles?” Derek mumbled against his chest. Stiles swallowed nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek turned his head a little and Stiles nearly let go, but then blood-crusted fingers caught a handful of his sweatshirt sleeve and Stiles relaxed. Derek blinked up at him. “Your lip is bleeding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not anymore. Not really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How hard did he hit you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Stiles said, chuckling a little. “I can’t believe you’re worried about me right now, Sourwolf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry I couldn’t stop them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, hey. Remember what I told you about apologies and torture? Not happening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re ice cold,” Derek said. Stiles shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, it’s freezing down here and not all of us have werewolf heating capabilities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek looked bothered at that. Stiles snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re warm though. If that gives me an excuse for the cuddling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles flushed and ducked his head, looking away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or we could call it not-cuddling and blame the torture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an idiot, Stiles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ve acknowledged that fact already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next time,” Derek said, face turning serious. “Don’t fight them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What,” Stiles said, stiffening a little. “And just let them take you? Um, hell no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles,” Derek said, a strange light in his eyes. “I can heal, remember? Whatever they do, I can take it. Next time, don’t fight them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and what, I can’t heal? Derek, dude, I’ve been in this situation before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’ve gotten hurt before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Stiles said, glaring down at him. “Derek, I swear to god. We’re friends, you tolerate me, I get it. But dude, being all buddy-buddy goes both ways. I’m allowed to care about what happens to you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek didn’t answer that. Stiles sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did they want this time? Same thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s jaw clenched a little. Stiles narrowed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And there’s that look again. What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek pushed himself up with a grunt and the cold air came rushing over Stiles like a flood, ignoring the thin protection of his sweatshirt. But Derek didn’t pull away, just situated himself so he was sitting up, shoulder pressed against Stiles’s as he gazed out the barred door opposite them. Stiles studied his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Derek?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You weren’t taken by accident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Stiles said, dropping his eyes. “I know. Hunter Asshole #1 told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not wrong, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles blinked over in confusion. Derek raised a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I stuck it out with Scott because he was a true alpha? I think I might’ve murdered him and his pack multiple times if not for the spastic kid standing in front of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Stiles groused. “I’m part of his pack too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Derek said, looking away. “But I consider you part of my pack as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles felt a small smile tug at his lips. He tilted his head, regarding Derek and the reddening tips of his ears warmly. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop looking at me like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just a fluffy little werewolf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could still rip out your throat right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Stiles said, leaning against his side. He followed Derek’s gaze out of the cell and toward the faint moonlight that lit up the corridor beyond. He felt a little safer— in the night with Derek at his side. Like if he’d ever admit that out loud. “Whatever you say, Sourwolf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grouchy-brows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fluffball.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek growled threateningly and Stiles chuckled. He sighed and rested his head against the cement wall, letting his eyes droop closed. One of Derek’s hands lowered over his own and Stiles didn’t even say a word. He fell asleep like that, actually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And for the night, everything was a little more okay.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day was more or less the same.</p><p>They came for Derek in the morning and Stiles was dragged back before he could put up a fight. He still struggled and ended up with three more bruises decorating the side of his face for it. The silence was as overbearing as it'd been the day before, while Stiles waited in the cell alone. And the stench of blood still clung to the air.</p><p>This time though, they brought Derek back sooner. This time, he was conscious.</p><p>One look at him and Stiles wished he wasn’t.</p><p>Stiles didn’t say a word to the hunters this time, more focused on getting to Derek than anything else. He was at his side the second the hunters were gone, fingers fluttering over the wounds marring his skin before Stiles drew back, staring helplessly.</p><p>“Derek, oh my god, Derek.”</p><p>Derek couldn’t find the words to speak, letting Stiles maneuver him against the wall and then leaning heavily against the boy’s side. Stiles’s skin was cold against his fiery own and the boy turned his body like a shield against the light of the corridor beyond. Derek felt like he was dying. Or maybe he just wanted to be dead.</p><p>“Here,” Stiles said, and Derek realized the water bottle from yesterday was touching his lips. There wasn’t much left but Derek swallowed the rest down greedily, feeling it wash through his torn throat. When Stiles drew back, Derek realized the boy's hands were trembling.</p><p>“They hit you again,” Derek rasped. Stiles flinched a little and panic rose in Derek’s throat. “Anything else?”</p><p>“No,” Stiles said. “Stop worrying about me.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“I’m serious, Sourwolf,” Stiles said in a soft voice. “Save your energy. I swear to god, that’s the least you can do, understand? Don’t make me knock you out or something.”</p><p>Derek tried to laugh. It came out more like a cough. “Sure, Stiles.”</p><p>“Shut up. Is there anything else I can do?”</p><p>Derek swallowed hard and shook his head. He reached out, though, and found Stiles’s hand, just like the night before. This time, he threaded icy fingers through his own. He heard Stiles’s heartbeat stutter and the boy's breaths caught for a second, but Stiles didn’t draw away. Instead, he leaned even more into Derek’s fevered heat. </p><p>“You can’t die on me, Derek. I won’t let you.”</p><p>“I’ll make sure the hunters know that.”</p><p>“I’m serious,” Stiles said, voice trembling. “You can’t die, okay? You can’t.”</p><p>“M’ not planning to,” Derek replied. His eyes felt heavy.</p><p>Stiles squeezed his hand tighter and starting humming; Derek thought he’d heard the tune before. From the last time he was out, maybe. It was some nursery lullaby Derek felt like he should recognize, but didn’t. It was familiar, but not familiar enough.</p><p>It was comforting, though. Derek let himself be lulled out of his tired and aching body and into the world of sleep by Stiles’s careful melody. Something that made him feel safe; and it’d been a while since anything made him feel safe. But Stiles’s humming did. And his touch.</p><p>And the fact that Derek wasn’t alone.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The hunters came twice more. </p><p>Once with food, taunting from it behind the bars until Derek felt himself going unconscious from a headache and dehydration and Stiles finally cracked, begging them for the bottle. Derek hated himself the second the water touched his lips and his head cleared again.</p><p>The second time they came was to drag him away once more, and Derek didn’t even remember much of that. He thought they were still on day two, but it might've been day three by the time he was returned to the cell. </p><p>Stiles smelled like blood again. He’d fought back and from his wheezing breaths, Derek thought he might have a bruised rib. Or worse, among other things.</p><p>“I know it’s Scott we’re waiting for,” Stiles said into the darkness, voice a little hoarse. “But you’d think three days would be enough.”</p><p>Derek didn’t have the energy to answer. His head was in Stiles’s lap again and the boy’s fingers carded through his hair, and Derek couldn’t focus on anything else other than that. His body wasn’t really stitching itself back together anymore. The wolfsbane in his system made it nearly impossible to keep anything down and the hunters didn’t even need to drug him anymore.</p><p>They did anyway. But they didn’t need to.</p><p>“My dad’s probably freaking out,” Stiles continued. “He was already a mess with work and being new to all this werewolf stuff, you know? He made me promise I wouldn’t die. Told me I wasn’t allowed to.”</p><p>Derek closed his eyes at the pain in his voice. Stiles chuckled but it was broken.</p><p>“This is gonna kill him.”</p><p>“You’re not dying in here,” Derek rasped. “You’re not, Stiles.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“I promise.”</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>Derek turned his head and Stiles’s fingers paused in his hair for a second, before returning to scratching softly. The boy’s face was bruised and his sweatshirt was stained darker red in some spots, but the light in his eyes was still there. If not a little dimmer. “You’re not dying here, Stiles,” Derek repeated. “I promise.”</p><p>“Then you’re not either, right?”</p><p>“... No.”</p><p>“Can you promise that too?”</p><p>Derek didn’t answer that one. Stiles’s face twisted and his fingers trembled a fraction before going stiff again. The boy nodded, but Derek thought it was more to himself than anything else. </p><p>“I’m not giving up on you.”</p><p>Derek turned his face away again. Stiles took a deep breath and began to hum. The hand that wasn’t in Derek’s hair trailed down his arm and found his fingers, thumb rubbing circles over the back of his hand and they threaded together. </p><p>It was a little bit like what Laura used to do, after the fire. Derek shivered at the memory and Stiles held him closer.</p><p>The fourth day came and they just got food. Derek fell asleep that night curled up around Stiles as the boy shivered, face turned into his chest. Derek didn’t even think before touching cold fingers against his lips as they both fell asleep. It just felt right.</p><p>Stiles felt right.</p><p>Then the fifth day came and the man who’d taken a liking to Stiles arrived with a friend. </p><p>Derek was still too weak to climb to his feet, but Stiles didn’t stand either. Rather, the boy shifted his body between the men and Derek and glared at them despite his trembling hands.</p><p>“What do you want now? If you take Derek today, you’ll kill him.”</p><p>“We’re not here for the mutt,” the hunter said. Stiles’s scent spiked with fear. </p><p>Before he could react, the man caught his arm and sunk a fist into his stomach. Stiles doubled over and Derek tried to claw himself to his feet, despite his screaming body, but the other hunter drove a foot against his ribs before he could even stand. Derek grunted and crumpled in on himself, and the hunter landed one more blow.</p><p>Derek’s ears rang. His mouth tasted of blood. He could hear Stiles shouting and fighting back, but could barely look up as the boy was dragged from the cell. Stiles’s face was pale. His eyes were wide and panicked.</p><p>Something leaked from the corner of Derek’s eye. Something wet.</p><p>He was pretty sure it wasn’t from the pain.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Time passed. Derek clawed himself up and leaned against the wall, staring at the barred cell door. He took shallow breaths and tried to imagine someone else walking through; Boyd, Scott. Hell, he’d even take Chris Argent.</p><p>Derek listened as hard as he could, but he couldn’t hear anything from beyond the cell. He tried not to think about what they were doing. What they did to him. What they might be doing to Stiles.</p><p>Derek took sips of water. He focused on keeping a clear mind and not breaking down from the worry of it all. He tried to remember that Stiles had sworn they’d both stay alive; him and Derek. Stiles had to stay alive. He had to.</p><p>Hours crawled by. Derek managed to climb to his feet, fingers brushing over the angry red wounds going across his torso and around to his back. He continued to watch the cell door. Listen to the air. See the light turn golden outside the bars.</p><p>He started to panic.</p><p>But then a little bit later, Derek could hear approaching footsteps. Smell the scent of iron and burned flesh, and Derek moved forward, catching Stiles as they threw him in. The hunters didn’t follow, but the big one smirked from behind the cell door. Derek growled and flashed his eyes.</p><p>“Stand down, mutt, he’s still alive,” the hunter said, sneering. “For now.”</p><p>Derek turned his back toward them, lowering Stiles to the ground. The boy smelled like blood and fear, and his red sweatshirt was in tatters. Blood traced down the side of his face. His lip was split again.</p><p>Suddenly, Derek knew what it was like to be on the other side; the panic of being helpless rising in his throat like a noose around his neck. Derek moved against the wall and carried Stiles with him, one hand cupping his neck to leech away the pain while the other guided his head against his chest.</p><p>Stiles shifted slightly. His scent flared with terror for a second, before dampening again. He whimpered and went lax in Derek’s arms.</p><p>"Hey, Derek."</p><p>"I'm here, Stiles. I'm here."</p><p>“They wanted to know about the packs, this time. Both of 'em.”</p><p>Derek shushed him. “Don’t talk. Just lie still.”</p><p>“I didn’t tell them anything.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“They wanted to know what I do. What my place in the pack is.”</p><p>“Stiles—”</p><p>“They wanted to know about my spark,” Stiles said, voice cracking. “Derek, I don’t even know about my spark. I couldn’t have told them anything if I wanted to.”</p><p>Derek’s chest constricted. For the first time since they’d arrived, Stiles’s skin was nearly as hot as his, but the boy was trembling. Goosebumps raced up his arms even though his skin felt like fire to touch. </p><p>“I think that was the worst part,” Stiles said softly. “I couldn’t have stopped them even if I wanted to.”</p><p>Derek didn’t know how to respond to that. So he shushed the boy again, fingers reaching for Stiles’s hair before he hesitated. Derek wasn’t used to this; he wasn’t used to being the one needed. The one providing comfort. Stiles was limp in his arms but the second Derek traced cautious fingers through his hair, he made a small noise at the back of his throat and shifted. Derek winced as the boy groaned and touched his arm to take away some more pain. Stiles sighed.</p><p>“M’ not dying here.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Neither of us are.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Stiles huffed, eyes fluttering closed. Derek felt helpless again and floundered for words, before swallowing nervously. His fingers hesitated in Stiles’s hair for a second. “I don’t know many lullabies.”</p><p>Stiles’s eyes flickered open and he glanced up in confusion. Derek felt his face grow warm.</p><p>“Only a few. Some Laura liked.”</p><p>“Your sister.”</p><p>Derek nodded. Stiles smiled a bit. </p><p>“It’s a polish lullaby," he said. "The one I’ve been humming. My mother used to sing it in the kitchen when she cooked. My dad likes to listen to it when one of us is making dinner.”</p><p>“It’s pretty.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Stiles said, eyes fluttering closed again. “She was pretty. Kind. Gentle.”</p><p>Derek watched him relax again and heard the sound of Stiles’s heartbeat slowing. Some part of him thought he should keep the boy awake, but Derek couldn’t bring himself to do that. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to remember the sound of Laura’s voice. The songs she’d sing from the bedroom of their New York apartment. Usually, when she thought he was asleep or not paying attention. They were songs she’d learned from their mother; songs that used to calm the pups during their first few changes.</p><p>Derek’s cautious humming was loud against the silence of the cell. His face burned a little but he kept going, fingers in Stiles’s hair. He listened to the boy’s heartbeats, faint, but steady.</p><p>Derek thought if they got out of here, he’d find those songs again. Learn the lyrics.</p><p>He’d make sure Stiles never came to a place like this again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey, Derek?”</p><p>Derek blinked down at him, though it took a few moments for his eyes to focus. He felt like there was something wrong with his body; his wounds had healed to a certain point and then stopped. His skin felt like it was on fire. But at the same time, Derek was cold. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been cold. And everything, everything, moved slowly. Too slow.</p><p>Stiles was curled up against him. Their fingers were threaded together and Stiles was tracing patterns around the back of his hand and over his wrist, amber eyes red-rimmed and tired. The boy swallowed before speaking again. “I know you tolerate me but I, uh— I—” Stiles sighed. “I don’t know. I’m tired.”</p><p>“You should sleep.”</p><p>“Not tired like that,” Stiles said quietly. “Just tired. Heavy.”</p><p>Derek nodded. Stiles huffed.</p><p>“I’m probably a terrible person for being glad I’m not alone.”</p><p>“You’re not.”</p><p>“Derek Hale,” Stiles said, rambling now. “The big fluffy fluffball of Beacon Hills.”</p><p>“You’re delirious, Stiles.”</p><p>“Maybe a little,” Stiles said. “But I mean it. I like you, Derek, and more than tolerating. I mean, dude. Derek Hale is holding my hand. If we weren’t in a cell getting tortured right now, I’d be ecstatic.”</p><p>Derek swallowed. Stiles peered up at him, brows drawn together.</p><p>“Is that okay?”</p><p>“You’re delirious, Stiles,” Derek said again. Stiles nodded.</p><p>“Yeah, but I might die down here, so let me get stuff off my chest, dude.” Stiles blinked a few times. “Oh my god, I was worried about my car. My car.”</p><p>“You were.”</p><p>“God, I’m an idiot. I mean, Scott finding us? It’s Scott.”</p><p>“Don’t give up on him yet.”</p><p>Stiles huffed and poked at his arm. Then his face scrunched up and he ran a palm up Derek’s skin, face twisting even more. “Dude, you’re burning up.”</p><p>“Werewolves run hot.”</p><p>“No,” Stiles said. “I thought I was just cold, but you’re <em> burning.” </em></p><p>“I’m fine,” Derek said, trying to catch his hand again. Stiles wriggled away and sat up with a curse, eyes screwed up for a moment. Then he squinted at him.</p><p>“Your freaking pale, dude. Are you sick? Are you dying? Derek, what the hell? What’s wrong with you?”</p><p>“Stiles—”</p><p>“Stop it. Have you been drinking water?”</p><p>“It's gone.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Stiles said, clawing himself up and moving toward the cell door. “Hey, assholes! We need some more water down here!”</p><p>“Stiles,” Derek said, pulling himself up too. Except he only managed one step before the world was tipping sideways. Faintly, he heard Stiles shout his name. Felt arms trying to soften his blow.</p><p>And then all Derek knew was black.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Stiles shouted at the top of his lungs.</p><p>He did everything he could to get the attention of the hunters, arms wrapped around Derek’s unconscious form as he kicked at the bars and spat strings of curses and pleas into the air. But nobody ever came and Derek never moved. The Alpha's body was like fire and his breaths were shallow rasps. Stiles could barely feel a heartbeat beneath his fingers and every few seconds, it would stutter.</p><p>Derek Hale was dying. And there wasn’t anything Stiles could do.</p><p>He couldn’t take away his pain or convince him everything was going to be alright. Stiles rocked back and forth and shouted at the top of his lungs, pleading with the silence that the hunters would come down and do <em> something. </em></p><p>Nobody came. </p><p>Stiles thought maybe they’d finally stopped caring. He and Derek had outlived their usefulness. This— this was the end. Nobody else was coming. Derek would die in his arms and Stiles would go shortly after.</p><p>He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed before. How long had Derek been suffering? The wolfsbane— it had to have been the wolfsbane. Stiles had thought Derek was healing slowly, but he hadn't been at all. His body had been failing the entire time Stiles had been complaining about his exhaustion.</p><p>He cradled Derek's body closer and whispered broken apologies. Stiles wasn’t strong enough to save them. He was human and there was nothing he could do to protect the man in the cell with him. Stiles should’ve been here alone in the first place. That’s how things worked out. That’s how things should’ve been.</p><p>Derek’s heartbeat stuttered. Every time, it was fainter. Slower. Softer. Stiles closed his eyes and felt streaks tracing down his cheeks.</p><p>“I’m not giving up on you, Derek. Don’t you dare give up on me.”</p><p>Stiles heard a beat. Another. A skip.</p><p> </p><p>One more.</p><p> </p><p>One that never came.</p><p> </p><p>Two, three.</p><p> </p><p>A skip. A pause. A flutter.</p><p> </p><p>Silence.</p><p> </p><p>Dead silence.</p><p> </p><p>His heart stopped and Stiles clenched his teeth so hard, they gnashed. A cry built up in his throat and exploded from his lips. A cry that shattered the air and sounded like something animalistic, but came from the only human in the cell. Stiles heard the sound of pounding footsteps. The cell door slamming open.</p><p>He turned hateful eyes to the hunters that came in— the man that’d taunted them for five days straight, the panicked looking hunters at his sides. Stiles clutched Derek’s body further into his chest and shouted, a rush of power exploding from their touching forms and rushing through the air, sending the hunters flying back.</p><p>There was a series of sick cracks. The sound of bodies slamming against the walls.</p><p>Stiles turned his face away and buried it in Derek’s neck, tears blurring his vision. The man's skin wasn’t as hot anymore, but now it was too cold. Stiles closed his eyes again and sobbed. </p><p>He sobbed and he prayed. Sparks danced around his fingers. The smell of electricity filled the air.</p><p>And Stiles heard a far-off howl. One that came from a distance, but vibrated through his bones like they were in the same room. Stiles heard a howl, felt the emptiness of the cell, and listened to his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.</p><p>And then he heard one more.</p><p>One more from beneath his fingertips, faint, slow, soft. But there. Stiles pulled his face away and looked at Derek through blurry eyes. The man was still unconscious, but his lips were parted again. Quiet breaths rasped in and out, one at a time.</p><p>Stiles dragged himself to his feet and pulled Derek’s body with him. One step after another, he started toward the open door of the cell. Around the bodies of the hunters and toward the fading golden light.</p><p>Stiles didn't look back. And he nearly sobbed again when one foot touched daylight.</p><p>Derek stirred, just a little. But it was enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh no, angst. I swear, usually my stories are lighter, I swear. But I mean, who doesn't love an angstier, sadder story every once in a while? But there's comfort. You have my word.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Derek woke up with a start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked for a second, confused by the white light around him and the cold air that filtered overhead. Unconsciously he reached out for the body that had been beside him for the past five days. only to find nothing. Empty air. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stiles.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek was up in a second, a sharp beeping filling the air as he looked around wildly, fangs slotting down and eyes flashing red. He realized he was in a small room on a small bed; there was a tube taped to his arm and a needle going under his skin. Derek yanked it out without a wince and swung his feet over the side of the bed, right as the door opened and a familiar face stepped inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melissa stilled and her eyes widened as she took in both Derek and the mess he’d made. Derek rose to his feet and the world spun; he quickly sank back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Derek,” Melissa said. “Please put the claws and fangs away before someone else comes in. I have no idea how I’ll explain any of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles,” Derek said, shaking his head. “Where’s Stiles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles is in another room,” Melissa said. “But right now, you need to take a deep breath and give yourself a second to come back to consciousness. You’ve been out for two days and you’re still a little dehydrated. Werewolf enhancements or not, that’s something even you can’t heal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to see Stiles,” Derek said, trying to stand again. Melissa shook her head and crossed the room, sitting him right back down. Her grip was surprisingly strong for a woman of her size.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What you need is to give it another minute. How long have you been awake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A few seconds” Derek muttered, shaking his head again. It was like there was a film over his brain; he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t remember anything other than blackness. Other than Stiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to get to Stiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles, who’d been trying to get the hunter's attention for water and then— and then fuzz. A sharp pain, arms holding him close, and Stiles’s faint cries in the air. The scent of his panic growing stronger while Derek felt like he was a hundred miles away. A damp face burrowing into the crook of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blackness. Derek remembered feeling lighter than he ever had before as a new type of darkness enveloped him. He was sure he’d been dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought he’d been dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Derek said shakily. Melissa studied his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were missing for five days. Came in severely dehydrated, malnourished, and with blood poisoning. Some kind of modified herb—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wolfsbane,” Derek said. Melissa raised a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever it was, it was inhibiting your healing. Your body was shutting down. A couple more hours in that cell and you wouldn’t have survived.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did I survive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scott found the hunters’ hideout,” Melissa said. “But he wouldn’t have if not for Stiles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek blinked. “Stiles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scott told me something when he brought you two in,” Melissa said. “He said you’d understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek raised a brow. Melissa shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do wolves signal their location to the rest of the pack?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do wolves signal their location to the rest of the pack?” Melissa repeated. Derek stared at her for a long second, and then blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles, he…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think Scott would’ve been able to find you two if not for Stiles,” Melissa said. She patted Derek on the arm and drew away, turning toward the table next to his bed. There was a chart she glanced over before turning back toward him. “And I don’t think you’d be alive if not for him either. In fact, I think for a moment there, you weren’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek stared at her in silence. Melissa offered a small smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you can stand, you can go see him. I still need to figure out a good excuse for the reason you came in beaten and bloodied, only to walk out two days later perfectly fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek was able to stand. He started toward the door, but hesitated with one hand on the knob, turning back for a second. Melissa was studying the chart again. Derek wet his lips nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said. She glanced up and tilted a brow, and Derek flushed. “For uh...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, honey,” Melissa said, voice surprisingly soft. “I sent your pack home, by the way. They refused to leave for both days and werewolves or not, that’s not healthy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Derek said. “It’s not. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled and nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek ducked his head and turned away, slipping out into the hall. Normally, he hated hospitals; they smelled like chemicals and sickness and death. This time, though, there was one scent he latched onto. The smell of cinnamon and autumn leaves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed the hallway to the door on the end. Scott was sitting in a chair outside. The young Alpha jumped up the second he saw Derek approaching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Derek!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek slowed hesitantly. Scott searched him up and down and his face broke into a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re okay!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Derek said. “You found us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only kind of,” Scott said, shuffling his feet. His face dropped and he gazed down at the floor. “I wouldn’t have, but I heard Stiles. I heard him, Derek, I heard him call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek didn’t know what to say for a moment. Scott turned his gaze back upward, looking distraught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have found him if he hadn’t. I didn’t even realize he was gone for a day and a half. I uh… I didn’t know until his dad called. And then it was too late to pick up his scent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek clenched his jaw. Scott rubbed a hand over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He woke up a while ago. Been in and out of consciousness since then, but my mom said he’s gonna be fine. One of his ribs was broken and a few more were cracked. His wrist was fractured, but it’ll heal right. Other than those, it’s just a lot of cuts and bruises. Dehydration too. His dad left for work a little while ago, but I promised to keep an eye on Stiles until he returned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek nodded. Scott sniffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next time I’ll know. Next time I’ll find him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There won’t be a next time,” Derek said. Scott looked up with wide eyes and Derek clenched his fists tight. “This isn’t happening again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott nodded silently. Derek brushed by and stepped into the hospital room. The scent of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stiles </span>
  </em>
  <span>washed over him with a familiarity that made Derek’s heart nearly stop. It was warm and sharp; and there was something new this time. Something electric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek moved over to the bed. He felt fragile, suddenly. This was different from the cell where all they had were each other. Derek felt like he was intruding now. Seeing the pale-skinned boy lying so silently on the hospital bed, covers drawn up to his neck and face washed of its previous grime and blood. His split lip was nearly healed. The bruises that’d been decorating his face were fading. Stiles looked… peaceful. Derek still remembered how the boy felt curled up shivering in his arms, smelling like fear and pain and anxiety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles shifted a little. Derek nearly fled the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Der?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek froze. Stiles tilted his head toward him, squinting a little. Then a smile cracked across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there, Sourwolf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Stiles,” Derek said, sinking into the chair next to the bed. For some reason, his heart thudded like a drum against his chest. “How are you feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, just great,” Stiles huffed, bleary eyes dancing. “They have me on drugs, Der, </span>
  <em>
    <span>drugs. </span>
  </em>
  <span>My head feels so strange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it does,” Derek said, chuckling. Stiles gazed at him and reached a hand out, and Derek stared for a second before threading his fingers through the boy’s. Stiles smiled with a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We got out, Derek.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I was gonna lose you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s throat tightened. He nodded wordlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t lose you,” Stiles mumbled. His eyes were on their joined hands and Derek’s chest constricted as he realized Stiles’s heartbeat didn’t stutter once over the words. “I couldn’t lose you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re here now,” Stiles said, looking up at him again. Derek nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m not leaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles smiled. His eyelashes fluttered and he sighed, turning his head deeper into his pillow. Derek smiled softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should go back to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’ not tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re drugged up. Trust me, you’re tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re a fluffy little werewolf,” Stiles said, smirking with half-lidded eyes. “The big bad Alpha of Beacon Hills holding my hand. I’m ecstatic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go back to sleep, Stiles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll stay? Even if I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll stay,” Derek murmured. Stiles nodded and closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” he said quietly. “Der.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek swallowed and held Stiles’s hand a little tighter, telling himself this was real. They were out of the cell and they’d survived; Stiles was alive. And somehow, Derek was too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were out and this was real. Stiles was asleep and for the first time in five days, he smelled content and calm. Derek traced his thumb over the back of the boy’s hand, just like he’d done every time Derek had been thrown in the cell half-conscious. He didn’t even think before he was humming. Softly, carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The polish lullaby Stiles had taught him.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stiles was allowed to go home two days later. His dad didn’t like it, but Stiles was tired of the hospital. He was tired of the smells and the too-small room. He was tired of forcing a smile whenever someone came in to tell him everything was gonna be okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles wanted to sleep in his own bed. Feel safe in his own room. He wanted to… be alone, he supposed. Or at least, that’s what Stiles kept trying to convince himself of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t do a very good job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Derek came by,” Scott had insisted. “The second he woke up. I don’t know when he left, but I know he came by. We talked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles didn’t remember that. Just… a song. Maybe. He’d been pretty drugged up so he wasn't sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad hung by the doorway when Stiles entered his bedroom, glancing around it. It was the same way he’d left it; Stiles felt like he’d been gone longer than over a week. He felt like it’d been years. Licking his lips nervously, he turned back toward his dad with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad I remembered to make my bed. Before, uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure you’re gonna be okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a big boy,” Stiles said, forcing a nod. “Anyway, those idiots had nothing on me. I turned out to be pretty badass in the end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deaton contacted me. He’d like to… talk about everything that happened when you’re feeling better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already better,” Stiles said. “I’ll talk to him soon. Thanks, dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Sheriff nodded, though he didn’t look fully convinced. Lips pursed, the man hesitated in the door for another long second, before nodding again and turning away. Stiles waited until he left, pulling the door closed behind him. Then he dropped onto the bed, taking a shaky breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles didn’t know if he wanted to sleep for a few years or just curl up and stare at the ceiling. He dropped back on his mattress and traced careful fingers over the cuts that still had yet to fade. Some would scar, Melissa had told him. A knot formed in Stiles’s throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, there was a thump. And the muffled sound of footsteps on the carpet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles nearly leaped out of his skin when a shadow fell over his bed. Derek stood a few feet away with his hands tucked into his pockets, watching Stiles like he was a bomb about to go off. Stiles sat straight up, staring at the werewolf for a second. Then he scowled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek swallowed. “Checking in on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now? Why now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I came by while you were in the hospital,” Derek said, looking anywhere but Stiles’s face. “But I thought, uh—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came once,” Stiles said, letting the hurt of that wash over him. Out of everyone he’d like to have seen while he was fully conscious and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>drugged, Derek hadn’t shown. The betas had twice. Lydia had spent the night. But Derek had vanished into thin air. “I don’t even remember your visit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek winced. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want your apologies, Derek!” Stiles said, then flinched as he remembered his dad downstairs. He dropped his voice to a quieter tone. “I wanted to see your face again. When it wasn’t covered in dirt and blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek looked surprised at that. Stiles stared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I wouldn’t have? Seriously, dude, do you think I’d get over the five days I spent alive because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>and suddenly things would go back to normal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Derek said. “I didn’t want to ask.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Dammit, Derek,” Stiles said, angry tears rising into his eyes. “I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to die and you would’ve been the last person I would’ve talked to. And you know what? I was okay</span> <span>with that. I was less scared of dying because you were there and you were with me. But then I woke up and you were gone.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Derek was looking distraught again. Stiles shifted on the bed, making space beside him, but refused to look at Derek as the man hesitated. Then slowly, the Alpha sunk down at his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence stretched on for a few minutes. Derek’s fingers stretched for his, but paused a few inches away. Stiles swallowed hard as the man pulled back again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know what you needed,” Derek said. “I thought it was family. Friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what does that make you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek didn’t answer. Stiles glanced over at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you, Derek?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you say? If I asked that same question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly?” Stiles hesitated. “Five days ago, the hot Alpha in a leather jacket. The one that grunted and growled a lot and totally turned me on when you went all ‘I’m the Alpha’ during pack meetings and fights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek huffed softly. Stiles swallowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now? I’ve been sleeping like shit for the past two days and it’s because you’re not beside me. I can’t think straight because I keep remembering how the silence felt when your heart stopped. And dammit, Derek, I don’t know what I’d do if you’d died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what I’d do if you’d died either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what is this then?” Stiles asked. “PTSD? Stockholm Syndrome?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek glanced at him. “A bit of both?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha-ha, Sourwolf, hilarious. But I’m serious,” Stiles said. He was pleading with the Alpha, even if he’d never admit that out loud. “What now? What happens?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Things go back to normal,” Derek said, looking away again. “If that’s what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if it isn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek didn’t answer. Stiles bit his bottom lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you want?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to make sure nothing like that ever happens to you again,” Derek said. “I don’t know what that’ll take, but that’s what I want. And I want— I wanted to make sure you were okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Werewolf,” Derek said, as if that was an answer. Stiles rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek gave him an offended look. Stiles raised a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So let’s say we’re both okay. We’re both fine and dandy, and nothing that happened back there mattered. Everything goes back to normal; you return to grumping and growling, I get turned on when you slam me into a wall. Every once in a while, I get kidnapped, pretend Scott’s the hero that saves me, and nobody has to be the wiser. Is that something we’d both be okay with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t,” Derek said, eyes flashing. Then he clenched his jaw. “But I just—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither would I, Derek. You self-sacrificing ball of fluff, I don’t want to be alone again and I don’t want to pretend that if you died, I wouldn’t be fucking shattered!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek stared at him. Stiles glared at his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to tell me that won’t happen. That you’ll stay here and you won’t leave me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t leave you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Derek,” Stiles said, still glaring. “I want— I want— fuck!” He raised his jaw and met the man’s eyes furiously. “I want you to kiss me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s brows shot up. Stiles clenched his jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay? That’s what I want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, the Alpha only stared at him, grey-green eyes studying his face and lingering on his lips. Stiles kept his chin raised and waited. But the man hesitated for far too long. His expression was far too uncertain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles cursed himself and started to turn away. But then Derek caught his chin and turned his face back. Stiles’s heartbeats stuttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And gentle lips touched against his forehead. Derek’s breaths were warm against his skin and his fingers traced down Stiles's neck, but Derek’s lips didn’t follow them. He kissed Stiles's forehead softly before drawing back, a fragile look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One day,” Derek said. “If you still want it, I’ll kiss you, Stiles. I will. One day, when everything that’s happened isn’t so raw. When we’re both okay and… and if you’re still sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles’s breaths trembled. Derek looked at him carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right now, I’ll stay. You took care of me and now it’s my turn to take care of you. Is that fair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silently, eyes burning, Stiles nodded. Derek traced his fingers down his arm and threaded their fingers together, resting his forehead against Stiles’s own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Derek whispered. “You’re not the token human, Stiles. You’re a pillar to the pack— our pack— and none of us are ever leaving you. Okay? I’m not ever leaving you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a fluffy little werewolf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek chuckled. Stiles sighed and rested his shoulder against Derek’s, feeling oddly okay with how things had gone down. He was here, he was warm, and they were okay. Well, not okay, but they were gonna get there. They’d survived, even though Stiles had been uncertain about that for a while. Somehow, they’d both come out together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek was humming softly. It reminded Stiles of his mother. Pretty, kind, and gentle. Stiles closed his eyes and let himself cry. Not tears of sadness or pain. Just comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was okay with being taken care of this time around.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wasn't sure how I wanted to end this fic, but I feel pretty good about how it finally came out. I might've broken myself a little with some feelz, but that's the fun part, right? What do you guys think? Thank you so much for reading, you're all so lovely!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Of course, the comments and support you guys leave makes my day. I hope you're all doing well, and hope you enjoyed this chapter! Seriously, you're all fantastic. Stay safe &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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